Things that make me feel like a bad mother: Part 2

I am so tired. The black circles under my eyes are painful to look at and my arms ache from the constant swinging and bouncing (however, are looking toned). I need to write out some checks and pay the bills. The dishwasher needs to be unloaded and the diapers in the waste basket smell like baby poo. I didn't collect the mail today and the throw blankets are not properly thrown—my living room looks a mess. I found a pacifier in my underwear draw (?) and I have 4000 photos to download and a baptism to plan (any ideas for favors?). My son is, um, wired. I just gave him a forty-minute bath to calm him down, but as soon as I took him out of the water he had a baby meltdown. His feet look like prunes (oops!) I gave him a bottle, but he wasn't due for one. I guess that's why he spit up on his clean jammies. Here, more reasons I am a bad mama…

I have about 37 loads of baby laundry to do, but since JD has enough clothes for 12 babies, I've been putting it off. I'm scared of his hamper.

I let him have a taste of my frozen yogurt the other day. He cried when I cut him off.

I kiss his little butt—literally—SMOOCH!

I once told him he had issues—it was 3am and he wouldn't stop screaming. Seriously JD, get a grip.

I have him dating two babes—Liv and Callia. It's a love triangle.

I call him "the poop-i-nater" because lately poop has been inching up his back. Gross. Note to JD: Everyone poops, honey, so stop freaking out when I change your diaper. I poop, the people reading this blog poop, Paris Hilton poops…your glow worm poops.

I sculpted a baby mohawk—with vaseline. He cried the whole time, but looked badass.